


The Way We Were

by ariel2me



Series: House Seaworth [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dale Seaworth’s wedding to the daughter of an old friend of Davos from his smuggling days reminded the Seaworths of how far they have risen, how much things have changed, and how some things have not changed at all. They also have to contend with the unexpected presence of Stannis Baratheon at the wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bride was beautiful, but too sensible to be blushing. The groom - normally a serious, sober-minded young man - grinned and beamed his way throughout the ceremony.

“With this kiss I pledge my love,” the bride and the groom recited their vows, witnessed by the Seven, the septon, their family and friends.

And witnessed by Stannis Baratheon. Davos glanced uneasily at Lord Stannis, who was among the few in the sept not looking joyful for the occasion.

_At least he’s not grinding his teeth or clenching his jaw_ , Davos thought.

When Dale pulled Dina close to him for the kiss, Davos’ hand strayed reflexively to gently squeeze Marya’s fingers. Marya had tears in her eyes.

Their own wedding had been an altogether more rushed and less grand occasion. Davos and Marya had exchanged their vows quickly at a small, broken-down sept in Flea Bottom, while other couples were lining up outside in the pouring rain, waiting for their turn to be married. The old septon had looked bored and sleepy, nodding off a few times, forgetting the words and even getting their names wrong. There had been no feast for the guests afterwards; Davos had scrimped and saved for months to be able to treat the guests to a few rounds of drinks at an alehouse.

Afterwards, Salla tried to pay for the drinks, but Davos would not let him. “I am happy enough just to have you drinking at my wedding,” Davos had told him.

“You must drink at my wedding too,” Salla had replied, clapping Davos’ back vigorously.

“But you are already married,” Davos said, laughing.

“I will have other weddings for you to drink at, I am thinking,” Salla said, winking at Davos. And he had been proven right; Davos had drunk and eaten at two of Salla’s weddings since.

Salladhor Saan had not been able to attend Dale’s wedding. The Prince of the Narrow Sea, as he was styling himself now, was engaged in an important battle at sea along with his fleet of ships.

_I will spare you the details, my friend,_ Salla had written. _And then you will not have to feel guilty for not reporting me to your lord and master, the Master of Ships._

The guests were slowly filling the feast hall, some taking their seats immediately, others lingering on to speak to other guests. Davos spotted Lord Velaryon, Lord Emmon and Lord Celtigar, among others, from Dragonstone. He had not expected any of them to come at all. The invitation had been made purely for courtesy sake. Davos knew those highborn lords would have no interest in attending the wedding of the son of an upjumped smuggler. Even if that smuggler had lived within the law for years and years now, had in fact been punished for his previous crimes, and was now a landed knight serving the same lord as them.

But they _did_ come after all, all of them bringing along their wives to boot. They came because of Lord Stannis, Davos knew. Not because Stannis commanded them to come, but because Stannis himself was here, sitting at the center table with the groom seated on his left and Davos on his right. To no one’s surprise, Stannis looked as grim and cheerless as ever. Any kind of festivity was not to his liking at all. Davos recalled the quiet, forbidding atmosphere of the feasts at Dragonstone, with no songs or singers marring the feasts except for the strange mutterings of that poor fool Patchface. Davos wondered what Stannis would make of Dale’s wedding feast.

_Perhaps he does not even want to attend the feast. I should have asked him if he wanted to go back to his room after the sept, instead of escorting him immediately to the hall._

That was another source of concern for Davos. Was the guest room they had prepared for Lord Stannis adequate? Stannis was very, very austere in his personal habits, and he would have scoffed at any lurid display of luxury. On the other hand, while Dragonstone might pale in comparison when it came to display of luxury or wealth compared to the homes of other lords, it was still the castle of a high-born lord, instead of the small keep of a relatively new knight.

In truth, Stannis attending the wedding was the most shocking thing of all. If King Robert himself had decided to grace Dale’s wedding with his royal presence, Davos would have thought that less surprising. He had invited Lord Stannis and Lady Selyse to Dale’s wedding, of course. But Davos did not for one moment expect that Stannis would actually come, to this wedding, or to any other wedding.

The letter from Devan had arrived only seven days ago. Stannis had taken Devan with him to Highgarden for an unspecified purpose for, and they would be stopping at Cape Wrath on the way back to King’s Landing, Devan had written. Davos was grateful; he had not been certain if Devan would be able to attend his eldest brother’s wedding at all.

Marya was less impressed. “Lord Stannis could not let Devan out of his sight even for a few days?

“He is honoring us with his presence,” Davos insisted.

Marya quickly wiped the frown off her face, and gave Davos a smile. But it was a forced smile, there was no real warmth in it. Davos sometimes wondered what Marya truly thought about Stannis, what she really felt about him. She was very reserved on that subject, in a way that she was not with her husband about other things. But Davos had never probed too deeply into the matter. He tried telling himself that it was because he did not want to upset his wife, but deep down, he suspected it was really because he was afraid of her answer.

Drinks were already flowing freely in the hall, and the serving girls and serving boys had started serving the first course of the feast. Lobster and onion soup, thick and creamy and looking particularly delicious to Davos. He was famished, his stomach already grumbling and making embarrassing noises. Davos had been too nervous to eat anything this morning before the ceremony. Before turning his full attention to the soup, Davos caught a glimpse of Stannis staring intently at Dale and his bride, who had their heads close together, whispering softly to one another.

Dale had married the only daughter of Aegon Tarhand. Aegon was not a highborn lord, despite his illustrious name. Aegon’s mother, who died only a few hours after giving birth to her first and only child, had pleaded with her husband with her dying breath to name their son after the king. Not the mad Targaryen king Robert Baratheon had defeated, but his more respected  - and less insane -grandfather who sat on the Iron Throne at the time. Her husband, in his grief and sorrow, had done just that.

The name had caused Aegon Tarhand much grief, even while the Targaryens still ruled as kings of the Seven Kingdoms. It was common for people to snicker when they learned of Aegon’s name – laughing and mocking at a lowborn living in the slums of King’s Landing sharing the same name as a king. The situation worsened considerably after the fall of House Targaryen, when snickers and mockeries turned into resentments and open hostility.

_“Are you a traitor to King Robert? Still hankering for the Targaryens to steal back the throne?”_

Still, Aegon would never dream of changing his name. It was his only legacy from the mother he never had the chance to know, he had told Davos one night, in his cups and weeping, not long after he had lost his own wife to childbirth.  

Aegon Tarhand had been a carpenter at Flea Bottom when Davos and his family were still living there. He had mended Davos’ ship on many occasions. He was also the man Davos had entrusted to look out for Marya and the children when Davos was away at sea. Dina was Aegon’s only daughter. Dale, Allard, Matthos and Maric had been close friends with the three Tarhand boys, Garth, Emric and Ben. They had played together, ran around with each other, explored every nook and crannies of Flea Bottom, and even, Davos suspected, the parts of the city they were not supposed to set foot in. The Red Keep, the Great Sept of Baelor. Allard, Matthos and Maric had thought Dina intimidating and severe; she was very firm and strict with her younger brothers. Her mother had died birthing Ben, so Dina had the sole responsibility of the boys during the day while her father was away at work.

When Davos was made a knight, he had asked Aegon to come to Cape Wrath to fix his new house. The small keep Lord Stannis had granted Davos had not been occupied for many years and was in a state of disrepair. Aegon had accepted the offer gratefully, but their relationship was not quite the same after that.

_M’lord_ , he had started calling Davos.

_“I am not a lord,”_ Davos had said, _“merely a knight. And I am still Davos Shorthand to you, Aegon.”_

 “ _You are Ser Davos Seaworth now_ ,” Aegon had pointed out. _“Davos Shorthand is no more.”_

Davos had decided not to keep the name Shorthand after he was knighted. He was not ashamed of his origin; it was only so his sons could have an untroubled beginning to their new life. With Davos’ own fingers recently shortened - Lord Stannis’ punishment for his years of smuggling - the name _Shorthand_ now seemed ripe as a source of mockery _. “Ser Davos Shorthand, with his fingers shortened by an axe,”_ Davos could already hear the taunts and jeers. He did not mind it for himself, he could have turned a deaf ear to any amount of taunting and insults. But he did not want his sons to have to put up with all that. It will be hard enough for them, coping with all the extreme change in their circumstances.

Truth be told, Davos also wanted Aegon in Cape Wrath because he craved a familiar face around, a friendly soul he could talk to. The highborn lords and knights who inhabited the Seaworth’s new life looked down on Davos and his family, not only because Davos was lowborn, but also because of his former occupation. _“An upjumped smuggler who bought his knighthood with meager onions and salt fish,”_ they whispered among themselves, and at times announced loudly to Davos’ face.

_Those onions and salt fish might be meager_ , Davos thought, _but they saved many lives that day. Lord Stannis said so himself._ And Stannis Baratheon was not the sort of man to overstate or embellish matter in any way.

Even Stannis’ cleaver falling on Davos’ fingers did not satisfy them - too lenient a punishment for the smuggler’s years of flouting the law, they scoffed. Old friends like Salla were drifting further and further away, and new friends were almost impossible to make. And yet, Davos was too embarrassed to tell his old friend Aegon Tarhand all that. It was not the sort of thing men said to one another, either drunk or sober, in the clear light of day or under the cover of darkness.

After the repair work on his keep had been completed, Davos had suggested to Aegon that he should bring his whole family and move to Cape Wrath. There would be plenty of jobs for him in the Stormlands. And perhaps even Dragonstone, in time.

“It is very kind of you, very kind indeed. But it doesn’t feel right, accepting more favors from you, Davos. After all you have done for us,” Aegon had demurred.

“You have done much, much more for my family. Keeping an eye on Marya and the boys when I am away at sea, for one. And that is just the beginning,” Davos protested.

“We helped each other, as neighbors should. You lent me money when I was short, even when you were barely making enough for your own family. Your Marya treated my poor motherless children like her own.” Aegon grabbed hold of Davos’ shoulders, a gesture of intimacy that used to be a normal occurrence for them, before Davos was a Ser. “Will you let your old friend give you a few words of advice, Davos?”

Davos smiled, and nodded vigorously. “Of course.”

“It is time to cut the cord with some of your old friends. That is, if you want to make a success of this new life for your family, and not squander the priceless opportunity you have been given.”

Davos was confused. “Cut the cord? What do you mean by that?”

“With Salla, for one. I have heard people talking with contempt and suspicion about how Ser Davos is still very, very friendly with his old friend the notorious pirate, the law-breaker.” Aegon paused. “With me as well,” he finally continued, his voice barely audible.

“I owe much to Salla. You know that very well,” Davos replied. “And besides, that does not apply to you, Aegon. You have never been a pirate, or even a smuggler.”

“I supported my family for years doing carpentry work on pirate ships and smuggler ships. Is that not flouting the law as well? How do you think your Lord Stannis would feel about you hiring a man like that to maintain your keep, the keep he granted you for the services you rendered him?”

“Lord Stannis is a _just_ man,” Davos insisted. “He believes that a good act does not wash out a bad one. But he also knows that a bad act does not wash out a good one either. Each should have its own reward and punishment.”

“And he took four of your fingers to punish you for the bad act. I love my fingers, Davos. I cannot afford to lose them, not if I still want to practice my trade,” Aegon had replied with firm conviction. And that had been the end of that, Aegon could not be convinced to change his mind about Davos’ offer. Davos could not do much more for his old friend, who insisted that he was content staying put where he was, at Flea Bottom, but Davos could try to look out for Aegon’s children.

Garth had decided on life at sea, working as a hand on a smuggler’s ship much like Davos’ own. Davos had taken him on as one of the ship hands on _Black Betha_ instead, convincing Garth that life on a smuggler’s ship was not worth the danger if there was another path open to him. Garth was now oarmaster on _Black Betha_. Emric had shared his father’s talent for woodwork and carpentry, and had spent many years learning the craft from his father. Davos had managed to convince the master carpenter at Storm’s End to take Emric on as an apprentice by showing him the few pieces of furniture Emric had made for Marya. Ben had learned to fight by surreptitiously watching the knights and squires training at the Red Keep, so Davos had taken him on to join the men guarding the garrison on Davos’ land.

All the time Davos was thinking of ways to secure the future of Aegon’s sons, it turned out Dale was making his own plans with Dina. For a brief, brief moment, Davos had wondered if Dale had proposed to Dina out of a sense of obligation to the old friend he had left behind in Flea Bottom, while his own life soared and soared. Dale was captain of his own ship now, and as the oldest son he would one day inherit the land and keep from Davos. But as Dale started talking about Dina to his father, his eyes blazing with conviction, his cheeks reddening with passion, Davos saw the unmistakable signs of love. Dale reminded him of the way Davos himself was, as a young man enthralled with Marya. Davos had to wait a long time before he could afford to ask for Marya’s hand in marriage, all the time worrying that her father would marry her off to someone else while Davos was away.

Davos stole a quick glance to his wife, seated next to him. Marya was patiently but futilely trying to engage Lord Celtigar’s very, very young wife in a conversation. His third wife, barely a slip of a girl, but almost as haughty and arrogant as her lord husband. Lady Celtigar was looking at the food with a suspicious expression and glancing at the other guests with distaste. Davos had invited most of their friends and acquaintances from the old days, back when the Seaworths were still Shorthands.

He had overhead Lord Celtigar speaking to Lord Velaryon, with contempt on his face and contempt in his voice, “If I had known Lord Stannis would be coming on his own, without Lady Selyse, I would not have brought my own lady wife here. I pity the poor young thing, having to put up with all these riff-raffs.”

Lord Velaryon had agreed forcefully. “Some of them look dangerous. No doubt the onion knight’s friends from his smuggling and pirating days,” he said with derision.

_I was never a pirate!_ Davos was sorely, sorely tempted to object loudly. _Only a smuggler, and only to put bread on the table to feed my family, while men of your ilk were feasting on inherited lands and fortunes with no thoughts at all for those less fortunate._ He remembered where he was, however. It would not do to quarrel with the guests at his son’s wedding.

“It’s shameful, as if the man has forgotten that he is now a landed knight,” Lord Celtigar had continued. “Why Lord Stannis values Ser Davos so much, I will never understand.”

Stannis calling out Davos’ name interrupted Davos’ recollection of the conversation between Lord Celtigar and Lord Velaryon. Davos glanced at Stannis’ plate and saw that the food was barely touched. “Is the food not to your liking, my lord? Would you like something else? I can ask our cook to prepare it,” Davos said.

Stannis shook his head tersely. “I am not hungry, ser.” He looked around the table. “I do not see the father and mother of the bride. Why have you not put them at this table? I’m sure their company would be more tolerable than listening to the dull and pointless chatters of Velaryon, Celtigar and Emmon, not to mention their tedious wives,” Stannis scoffed.

Davos had wanted to sit Aegon at this table, but his old friend had refused the honor. “I do not belong on that table with those highborn lords and ladies, Davos. It will only be an embarrassment.”

Davos had protested vehemently. “You are the bride’s honored father, and a better man than most of them. If they are embarrassed to sit at the same table as you, then they should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves.”

 “It will be an embarrassment for _me_ , Davos,” Aegon said gently. “I would not be comfortable sitting with them, I wouldn’t know what to say, or do. I suspect I won’t even be able to swallow my food, that is how awkward it will be. They look a dour, grim-faced bunch, all of them, not just Lord Stannis. I’d rather sit with my sons and your sons and enjoy the feast, laugh and be merry on this happy and joyful day.”  

Davos had no answer to that, so he had agreed to Aegon’s request. But he suspected that Lord Stannis would not understand the dilemma Davos had been faced with. Why should he, the man who was born and raised the son of a lord, and was now a lord himself. Lord Stannis might be a notable exception among the highborn lords – a man who refused to judge another man’s worth based on titles and inheritance - but there were still limits to his understanding.

“Dina’s mother died giving birth to her youngest brother, my lord,” Davos said softly.

Stannis glanced at the bride. “And her father? Where is he?”

“He is sitting with his sons and my sons, at that table,” Davos replied, pointing to the table in question.

“He is a carpenter, I hear. The bride’s father. A worthy occupation. Making something useful with your own hands,” Stannis nodded with approval. “Certainly more worthy than braying like a mule or croaking like a trained crow,” he continued, glancing at Lord Velaryon and  Lord Celtigar with disdain.

Stannis seemed to know quite a lot about Dina’s father. Davos wondered who had told him about Aegon. Devan, perhaps? But then again, Davos could not quite imagine Stannis quizzing his squires about their family.

“Perhaps the bride’s father feels more comfortable sitting with his sons and your sons,” Stannis said wryly, as he watched that table erupting into laughs and cheers.

Davos knew how much Stannis disliked loud merriment. “I will tell them to keep it down, my lord,” Davos said apologetically. He started to get up from his seat, but Stannis took hold of his arm before Davos was fully standing.

“This is _your_ feast, Ser Davos, not mine. Were it mine, even this abominable music would not be playing at all. But I will not dishonor you and your lady wife by dictating how you should conduct a feast in your own hall.”

Davos sat down again. “How was Highgarden, my lord?” He finally asked, to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended between them.

“Absolutely _perfect_ ,” Stannis said with contempt. “The knights are gallant and the women graceful, the crops plentiful and the flowers beautiful. There is nothing quite like it in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms,” he scoffed. “And Mace Tyrell is still a buffoon, but we already know that. An ambitious buffoon with delusions of grandeur, to be precise.”

Davos was curious why Stannis had traveled all the way to Highgarden to meet with this buffoon. Surely King Robert could have summoned Lord Tyrell to court?

“Did you complete your business with Lord Tyrell satisfactorily, my lord?” Davos asked instead.

Stannis was gazing at him shrewdly. “That is not the real question you wanted to ask me. Out with it, ser. I do not tolerate you by my side in order to spout inane pleasantries. Honesty. That is what I require from you, Ser Davos.”

“Why go to Highgarden to see Lord Tyrell? Why not summon him to King’s Landing?” Davos asked, his eyes fixed on Stannis.

“Because Robert would not hear of it, and I am only Master of Ships, not a king. I do not have the power to command the Lord of the Reach and Warden of the South to come to court,” Stannis replied, his voice full of barely suppressed anger and bitterness. “That fool Littlefinger is borrowing money from House Tyrell, without asking leave from the Small Council. The crown is already deep in debt to House Lannister. Not that Robert cares. He spends and spends with scant regards for anything  - for pointless feasts and tourneys, not to mention waste of all types. And that’s not even counting the money lining the pockets of corrupt officials.”

Davos hesitated. “The money has to come from _somewhere_. Perhaps it is good, for House Lannister not to be the sole creditor,” he finally said, fully expecting Stannis’ wrath to descend on him.

_Honesty. He deserves that from me, after all he’s given us. I owe that to Lord Stannis, no matter the consequences to myself._

Stannis merely sighed, however. He looked almost too exhausted to be angry. “That was what I thought as well, at first. But Mace Tyrell is charging a ridiculously high interest for his gold, higher than the one currently charged by Tywin Lannister. And if Lord Tywin caught hold of that piece of information, he will want to increase the interest for the crown’s debt to him as well. Littlefinger negotiated the terms of the debt with Mace Tyrell himself. The man is neither dependable nor trustworthy. If it were up to me, he would have been replaced as Master of Coin a long ago time, but Robert would not agree to that. Lord Arryn and I thought it best if I see Lord Tyrell myself, to renegotiate the terms of the debt.”

Going to Highgarden to negotiate the terms of a debt with the man who feasted within the sight of Storm’s End while Stannis and his people were starving inside. Davos could not even imagine what Stannis must be thinking. Or feeling. There were limits to Davos’ own understanding as well.

“Were you … successful, my lord?”

Stannis shook his head with disgust. “No. Mace Tyrell refused to budge, unless Robert agrees to certain … conditions.” Stannis paused. “A wedding. Lord Tyrell wants a wedding for his _beloved_ daughter Margaery,” he continued, his voice dripping with scorn.

“With Prince Joffrey?” Davos asked Stannis.

“No doubt that would have been Mace Tyrell’s first choice, but some birds from King’s Landing must have whispered in his ears that Robert wants Ned Stark’s daughter for Joffrey. No, it is Robert’s brother Lord Tyrell has his sight set on.”

Lord Renly was the only Baratheon brother still unwed. But how old was Lord Tyrell’s daughter? Still young, Davos had thought. “Is Lord Tyrell’s daughter old enough to be wed?”

“Old enough for a betrothal,” Stannis replied.

“Lord Renly is of an age to be married,” Davos pointed out, gently.

“My brother, married to a Tyrell?” Stannis shook his head vigorously. “I thought Jon Arryn was a fool to propose the match with Cersei for Robert, but at least the Lannisters never took arms against us during the war. The Tyrells did, they laid siege on Storm’s End for almost a year. Mace Tyrell’s daughter as mistress of Storm’s End, living in the castle her father tried to destroy, giving orders to the servants, sleeping in the very bedroom my late mother and father used to sleep in? I have stopped believing in gods for many years, Ser Davos, but I still believe in blasphemy. It would be a grave and unforgivable insult to the memory of Lord Steffon Baratheon and his lady wife Cassana for any Tyrell to reign as mistress of Storm’s End. And for someone with Tyrell blood to be lord of Storm’s End one day.”

“The child would have Baratheon blood as well,” Davos said. Stannis paid him no mind.

 Davos tried again. “Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing, having the Tyrells at court, balancing the influence of the Lannisters. That was something you have always been worried about, my lord, the Lannisters and their grip on power at King’s Landing.”

_The Lannisters must breed like rabbits_ , Stannis had complained once, when Davos went to court to visit him. _You cannot move an inch in this city without coming across another Lannister in a position of power and influence._

Davos’ words did not seem to convince Stannis. “Out of the lion’s mouth only to be smothered by thorny flowers? That does not seem like a promising prospect, Ser Davos.”

“The lion and the flower could trample one another and neutralize each other’s strength, my lord. That could prove beneficial to –“

“Which one of your sons is that?” Stannis abruptly interrupted. “The one who is staring at me.”

 Davos was horrified. “Stanny, my lord,” he said reluctantly.

“Stanny,” Stannis seemed perplexed by the sound of that name. “Is that what you call him? The son you named after me.”

 Davos nodded.

“Is that why he is staring at me? Curiosity about the man he was named after?” Stannis asked.

In truth, Stanny had never shown any curiosity about Stannis before Devan left home to serve as Stannis’ squire. It was only after Devan’s leaving that Stanny started peppering his mother, father and older brothers with endless questions about Lord Stannis.

_What is he like? Is he kind? Or is he really as harsh and severe as Allard said? He chopped off Father’s fingers once, what if Devan does something wrong? Misplace his armor, or lose his sword, say. Will Lord Stannis chop off Devan’s fingers too?_

Davos was trying hard to formulate a reply to Lord Stannis’ question that would not get Stanny in trouble, when Marya suddenly grasped his hand, pointing to four knights walking towards their table with great fanfare. The knights were carrying a large wooden box, intricately carved and decorated with crowned stags, but shaded in many colors, not just black.

The colors of the rainbow, Davos realized, as the four knights approached the table. He glanced at Stannis. _A wedding gift from Lord Stannis?_ Davos doubted that very much. It was everything Stannis loathed, in fact. The pomp and fanfare, the flashiness, the showiness. Indeed, Stannis was looking at the box with great distaste. “From my brother Renly, I wager. After all, your land sits under his command as lord of Storm’s End, even if you are a knight sworn loyalty to me. Renly would not miss the opportunity to remind you, and everyone else, of that fact.”

_And to remind Lord Stannis of that as well_ , Davos thought. He signaled to the musicians to stop playing.

It was, in fact, a wedding gift from Lord Renly. The tallest of the four knights carrying the box announced that loudly, as they set the wooden box on the floor in front of the raised dais. “Lord Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and Protector of the Stormlands presents this gift to Ser Davos of Cape Wrath and his lady wife on the occasion of their son’s wedding. Lord Renly wishes the bride and groom happiness and joy till the end of their days,” he read the pronouncement solemnly. He looked up. “Ser Davos, will you accept this gift?”

Davos stood up and walked towards the knights. “Gladly, sers. Will you convey our deepest gratitude to Lord Renly?” Davos said. The four knights nodded in unison. Davos beckoned for Allard, Matthos and Maric to carry the box away. They came quickly, Garth Tarhand with them. But before they could get hold of the box, the tall knight who had read the proclamation from Lord Renly cleared his throat loudly and said, “Perhaps you would like to open it first, Ser Davos, to show the content to your guests?”

Was that an order from Lord Renly? To make sure his gift was paraded and shown to all present? Davos dared not disobey; after all, as Stannis had pointed out, his land was under Lord Renly’s command. And Lord Renly had subtly reminded everyone of that, when he referred to Davos as Ser Davos of Cape Wrath, instead of Ser Davos Seaworth or Ser Davos of House Seaworth. Cape Wrath, located in the Stormlands, not in Dragonstone. In the territory commanded by the lord of Storm’s End, not the lord of Dragonstone.

But Davos was also a knight sworn loyalty to Stannis, and Stannis was the one who had given him everything. He hesitated.

“What are you waiting for, Ser Davos?” Stannis said. “Open the box. Let’s see what _wondrous_ gift my brother has prepared for your son’s wedding.”

Davos started to open the box with his sons’ assistance. Inside was an oversized miniature of a ship, intricately carved, the sails made of silk of the highest quality, as soft to the touch as feathers, yet somehow still stretching and strong as real sails would be. ‘ _Wraith_ ’, the name of the ship Dale was captaining, was carved into the side with beautiful, exquisite lettering. The guests gasped, oohed and aahed in admiration. Marya glanced at Lord Stannis, as if she was afraid of his reaction. Dale, too, looked worried. Dina looked puzzled.

“A gift worthy of my brother, I am sure,” Stannis said. Davos could hear the bitterness lurking underneath, but judging from Marya and Dale’s relieved expressions, he suspected that no one else had heard it. Stannis stood up, holding up his glass which held not wine, but lemon water, and said stiffly, “A toast, for the bride and groom. May you always be mindful of your duty to one another, as well as your duty to others.”

As everyone else was drinking their wine, Stannis turned to Dale and said, “I will not stay until the bedding.” Dale said something Davos could not hear, to which Stannis shook his head in reply, and then promptly walked out of the hall. Davos was about to follow Stannis out when music began filling the hall again, and he saw Dale escorting his wife to the dance floor. People were cheering and clapping. Even Lord Celtigar’s young wife looked less hostile and almost interested, as if she could not help being caught up in the excitement of the moment.

_I will speak to Lord Stannis later_ , Davos resolved, as he turned around from the door and made his way back to his table instead. Marya took his hand as he sat down, and together they watched their firstborn dancing with his new wife.

“You were a better dancer,” Marya whispered to Davos. “But don’t tell Dale I said that.”

Davos smiled. “Your hair was wet. There was a drizzle that night,” he said, his hand tucking Marya’s hair behind her ear. They had danced under the moonlight, in the alley behind the alehouse, as the wedding guests were drinking themselves to oblivion inside. It was almost a lifetime ago, yet Davos could still recall the details as if it were only the day before.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I will call for Devan to escort you back to your room, Lord Stannis,” Dale had said. But Lord Stannis had shaken his head vigorously, and walked out of the hall before Dale could say anything else.

“Why would Lord Renly send us a wedding gift? Your father serves Lord Stannis, not Lord Renly,” Dina whispered to Dale, puzzled. “Lord Stannis did not look happy when the gift was unveiled. Will that cause any trouble, between your father and him?”

“Allard would say that Lord Stannis _never_ looks happy,” Dale replied, his voice a whisper as well. He gave his wife what he thought was a reassuring smile.

Dina was not reassured, however. She looked quite irritated with his attempt to placate her. “I will tell you the reasons later,” Dale promised her, feeling contrite.

“Marriage is a partnership, a shared concern,” his mother had told him. “The good _and_ the bad, the joy _and_ the worry, all of it. You must never think – _‘I will spare her my worries to protect her’_ , or _‘I will spare her the truth for her sake.’_ Those are usually lies people tell themselves for their own sake, not for the other person.”

_You did not always tell Father everything either, Mother,_ Dale thought. Marya never told her husband about the landlord who threatened to throw them out on the street, or about the goldcloaks who came looking for Davos Shorthand the notorious smuggler while he was a thousand leagues away at sea. Or about the money he left behind that should have been enough to feed the family in his long absence, but ran short long before he was due to return because Allard broke his leg running from men of the City Watch and Matthos was struck down by yet another bout of fever.

“We survived everything, didn’t we? Everything is fine now, there is no need to tell your father any of that,” she had reminded her sons every time Davos was due to arrive home. “It will only make him feel more guilty that he already does, for being away from us for so long.”

Mother had spared Father the truth, for _his_ sake. Not for her own sake, Dale was absolutely certain, no matter the words coming out of her mouth now.

But Dale was a dutiful son, and he would never dream of saying any of this to his mother. And he knew that there were things Father did not tell Mother either.

“Not telling is not the same as lying,” his father had told Dale once. “There are some things … well, I am a man … with … with needs. During my smuggling days, we were apart for months at a time, your mother and I. Sometimes close to a full year. It will only hurt your mother … to know everything. Telling her would only be a selfish act to clear my conscience and make myself feel better.”

“Marriage is a dance,” Dale also recalled Allard’s words to him, the last time they had drunk together, two nights before the wedding.

_“_ And I’m supposed to lead?” Dale had asked.

Allard snickered. “As if Dina would let you! Have you forgotten who you are marrying? The woman who can still make Garth, Emric and Ben tremble in their boots to this very day, grown men that they are now. No, brother, just remember not to step on her toes.” He laughed boisterously. “I will never marry,” Allard said, softly, after his laughter had died down.

Allard with his girl in Oldtown and his girl in Braavos and his girl in King’s Landing. And probably more girls in other ports, Dale suspected. Allard who had seemed set for a life of law-breaking and subsequently the Wall or even worse. Allard who was now the second-in-command on the ship named after their mother, with promising prospect to captain _Lady Marya_ himself, soon, when the captain finally retired.

“You will, one day,” Dale replied with conviction. “When you meet the right woman.”

Allard scoffed. “It’s _that_ simple, is it?”

“It was for me,” Dale insisted.

Dale could tell Dina anything, the things he dared not tell his father and mother, or even his brothers. “Sometimes I wish we were still Shorthands,” he had told her once, and then covered his face with both his hands in shame. It was wrong of him to feel that way, he knew. His father safer, his brothers’ future more secure, his mother living a less hard life. All that because they were now Seaworths, instead of Shorthands.

Dina had taken his hands off his face. “It is very natural,” she said. “You would be a lesser man if you do not feel that.”

She understood. Understood without having had the experience herself. She understood what it was like to feel as if you were losing yourself. As if you were disappearing. _To gain so much in the eyes of the world, yet feeling as if you have lost a great part of what made you … well … you_. Dale was neither wise nor learned, and philosophical musings were far beyond him, but the fear and the emptiness he sometimes felt were real nonetheless.

He envied Devan, Steff and Stanny at times. He wondered what it felt like, to have both feet planted in one world from the moment of birth.

“You are still the same man that you were,” Dina said.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because only that same man would harbor the fears and doubts you are having now. Dale Seaworth the knight’s son who has forgotten who he was and where he came from - _that_ Dale Seaworth would never share those same doubts and fears.”

Dina had her own doubts and fears, however. She refused him flatly the first time Dale spoke of marriage. She spoke of his bright future, his chance to captain his own ship. She reminded him that as the oldest son, he would be inheriting the land and keep from his father, and the woman he married would be the mistress of the keep one day. “I am not the sort of wife suitable for someone in your position. A carpenter’s daughter from Flea Bottom? You would be an endless source of mockery and snickering for those high-born knights and lords. It is bad enough that they are mocking you and your brothers about the onions and salt fish. If you marry a carpenter’s daughter from Flea Bottom, it would only get worse. Much worse.”

“My mother was a carpenter’s daughter, from Flea Bottom as well,” Dale pointed out. “And yet she and my father have been happily married for all these years.”

“Your father was not a knight, or even a knight’s son, when she married him. He was a smuggler,” Dina shot back.

“I care nothing about their scorn and their mockery. Let them mock! It does not matter to me in the slightest,” Dale replied.

“But I care! I care for your sake, and for mine as well. I could not live hearing that about the man I love.”

“You would rather not be with the man you love?”

Dina turned away. “I don’t know. Don’t ask me.”

It took Dale almost a year of continuous effort before Dina finally changed her mind. At first, Dale believed that he had merely worn her down with his constant pleas and entreaties. But the day after the betrothal was announced, Dina told him it was something Lord Stannis had said.

Dina had come to Dragonstone when Dale was finally made captain of his own ship, to witness the handing over ceremony from the previous captain. Dale had no idea Lord Stannis even knew who Dina was, let alone that he had a conversation with her.

“Lord Stannis? Why, did he convince you of all my virtues?” Dale teased.

Dina looked serious. “He told me I was a coward, that I was fearful for my own sake, not yours.”

Dale was astonished. “Why … why would he say that? Lord Stannis does not even know you.”

“That man knows more that you would think,” Dina replied. It was strange hearing Dina refer to Lord Stannis as ‘ _that man’_. _Mother does that too, when she is annoyed with him_ , Dale thought.

“He also said that if I am truly serious about not wanting to be your wife, I should have broken all ties with you. I should have stayed away, instead of constantly appearing in front of you,” Dina continued. “I was playing a game, he said, and he did not care for it.”

Dale bristled. He respected Lord Stannis in many ways, but this was too much. “Lord Stannis is hardly an expert when it comes to marriage and love,” Dale said. “He is wrong, so _wrong_ about you.”

“Of course he is,” Dina said calmly.

Was Dina marrying him just to prove Lord Stannis wrong? The thought came unbidden from nowhere, planted from a tiny seed of doubt. He pushed it violently aside.

“I didn’t agree to marry you to prove Lord Stannis wrong.”

Relief. He was flooded with relief. How could he have doubted her?

“I was furious, of course. Furious at this meddling lord who thought he had the right to meddle in everyone’s affair. But then came doubt. _What if? What if he is right after all, this meddling lord?_ I searched my heart and conscience, long and hard. He is wrong, I was finally convinced.” Dina laughed. “Lord Stannis really knows very little of the human heart. Though he fancies himself an expert of the human condition, I’d wager.” Her laughter died down. “But in searching my own heart and conscience, I came face-to-face with my worst fear, one I had not been willing to admit or face before.”

He took her hand. “And what is that? Your worst fear?”

“That I will spend the rest of my life regretting that I did not have enough faith in _us_ , to face whatever might come, be it scorn, mockery, or something worse.”

Dale smiled. “Well, perhaps I owe a debt of gratitude to Lord Stannis after all.”

“Don’t tell him that. _Please_. I do not want him to have the satisfaction of thinking that he had been right after all,” Dina said.

“But he is wrong. You said so yourself.” Dale was puzzled.

“He would not see it that way. He is the sort of man who will always think himself right.”

Marya and Dina seemed to share a cynical and unflattering view of Lord Stannis. Dale had tried bringing up the subject with his father.

“They have not spent as much time in his company as we have,” Davos had said.

 “And of course,” Davos continued after a long pause, “to your mother, Lord Stannis represents … many things. Not just the knighthood and the land, but also the fingers he took, and our long separation while she watches over our land in Cape Wrath and I serve Lord Stannis in Dragonstone. Even Devan is with Lord Stannis now.” He paused. “Her anger should rightfully fall on me. But your mother loves me too much for that.”

Perhaps there was some truth in that, Dale thought. But he also suspected that in some ways, his mother probably saw and understood Lord Stannis in a clearer light than his father, not blurred by loyalty and affection.  

“I thought you said you have been practicing. _We will dance as gracefully as swans,_ you promised me,” Dina’s teasing voice interrupted Dale’s reverie. He looked down to see his right foot only inches away from falling on her left toe. He moved his foot away in a rush, and almost lost his balance in the process.

Dina laughed. “Would you like me to lead?” She whispered softly in his ear.

“If you want,” Dale said, his voice a whisper as well.

“Not here,” she replied. “Later.”

*******

For a while, it seemed as if the feast would never end. Even after the bedding ritual and Dale and Dina had been carried off to their bridal chamber, the guests kept on drinking, singing, cheering and hollering. Most of the highborn lords and ladies had gone, however, leaving the moment Lord Stannis walked out of the hall, as if it was only his presence that was making them tolerating the feast before.

_And good riddance too_ , Marya thought. She shuddered thinking of her failed attempt to entertain Lady Celtigar. She had felt sorry for the poor child at first, a young girl married to such an unpleasant old man.

_That child … no … that lady has no need for my sympathy or my concern. She would think me insolent, in fact, had she known. “_ How dare that woman! The wife of an upjumped smuggler, feeling sorry for _me_ , a high-born lady,” Marya imagined Lady Celtigar in her fury.

She was tired, so very tired. Tears of joy were still tears, and crying was exhausting, especially after days and days of planning, preparing, worrying about what could go wrong.

Marya started her headcount. Dale and Dina were safe in their marital bed. They would be staying in Cape Wrath for seven more days. Maric and Allard had to leave for Dragonstone the day after tomorrow; their ships were waiting for them. Matthos would leave when Davos did, in a fortnight.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. That would be the longest her husband had been home for a long while. Marya savored the thought.

_Devan has to leave tomorrow_. That wiped the smile off her face in an instant.

She made her way to Devan’s room, opening the door softly so as not to disturb his sleep. But the room was empty. It was almost dawn - surely Stannis could not be needing his squire’s service at this hour? Marya tried to push down her resentment; it would not do to make Lord Stannis suspect anything.

The room shared by Steff and Stanny was her next destination. Devan was there, in his brothers’ room. The three boys between them had somehow managed to push the two beds together to make one big bed, and the three of them were fast asleep on it - Devan in the middle, Steff to his left and Stanny to his right. Steff’s head was not on his pillow, but nestled on Devan’s chest. Devan’s hand was  sprawled on Stanny’s stomach.

The boys had forgotten their blankets. Marya took out the blankets from the cupboard and covered her three youngest boys. Devan woke up abruptly, his eyes fixed on his mother questioningly. “Go back to sleep,” Marya whispered. “You need to rest. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.”

“I am not leaving tomorrow, Mother,” Devan whispered. Marya’s heart leapt. Devan would be with them for a while longer. But then a worrying thought struck her. Did that mean Lord Stannis would be staying longer too?

“Has Lord Stannis changed his plan?” Marya asked her son.

Devan shook his head. “No, Lord Stannis is still leaving tomorrow. But he is not taking me with him. He said that Father can take me to King’s Landing when he leaves for Prince Joffrey’s nameday celebration.”

Marya was relieved. She smiled, and kissed Devan’s cheek. “That is good news. Very good news indeed. Your brothers have been missing you.” _And I have too, more than I can tell you, my son._

Devan smiled too. “Stanny has grown so much. He is almost as tall as I am, and wider in the chest as well.”

“No wonder, considering how much he’s been eating lately,” Marya said. “ _I am eating for two_ , he would say.”

“For two?” Devan looked puzzled.

“For himself and for you, according to Stanny.”

Devan giggled.

_So you would not be sad, Mother, about Devan being away_ , Stanny had continued. But Marya did not tell Devan this part of the story.

Devan’s expression suddenly darkened. “Mother, what if … what if I have done something wrong? Displeased Lord Stannis in some way. Maybe that is why he doesn’t want to take me with him back to King’s Landing,” he said, not looking his mother in the eyes.

“But what could you have done?”

Devan shook his head. “I don’t know. Lord Stannis never said anything. But maybe … maybe I got slightly carried away. Highgarden is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, everything is so lovely and shiny. The fruits they served us are bigger and riper than anything I’ve ever seen, here or in King’s Landing. And the people are always smiling and laughing, looking happy.”

Marya saw the problem. “And you think that Lord Stannis did not like your … enthusiasm?”

“Maybe. He certainly didn’t like Highgarden, or that lord he spoke to,” Devan replied.

“I’m sure it’s not a punishment,” Marya said. “Lord Stannis is not the sort of man who keeps silent if something displeases him. He would have told you at once if you have done anything wrong in his eyes.”

Devan did not look entirely convinced, but he smiled, more to reassure his mother than anything else, Marya knew. “Good night, Mother,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. Marya blew out the candle and closed the door.

As Marya turned the corner to get to her own room, she spotted a figure standing close to an open window. Lord Stannis, standing with his hands folded together behind him, staring out the window at the dark, starless night. Marya wanted nothing more than to pretend that she had not seen him, to go directly to her room where she knew Davos was waiting for her. But from the way Stannis’ shoulders had stiffened as Marya’s footsteps approached him, she knew that he had already noticed her presence.

“Is your bed not comfortable, my lord? Anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?” Marya asked.

Stannis turned to face her. “No, it is satisfactory, thank you,” he said stiffly. “My lady.”

Stannis Baratheon calling her ‘ _my lady’_ was making Marya very uncomfortable. But she knew that was only his stiff courtesy at work. Stannis was correct to a fault with women.

_To hide his own discomfort with them?_

“Devan tells me you are still planning to leave for King’s Landing tomorrow. Might I persuade you to stay for a few more days, to refresh yourself before the tiring journey?” Courtesy forced her to make the offer.

“I would not presume to trouble you more than I already have, my lady. And if it is Devan you are really concerned about, I have no need of him for the time being. My other squire awaits me in King’s Landing. Devan can stay here for a while longer.”

“Yes, he told me that.” Marya hesitated. To ask, or not to ask? _For my son_ , she steeled herself. _I have to ask for Devan’s sake._ “Devan was worried that perhaps … perhaps he had committed some offense, had displeased you in some way at Highgarden. And that is why you have decided to leave him behind, as a punishment.”

“Punishment?” Stannis frowned. “What could have given him that impression? I had hoped that your son knew me well enough by now to know that if he had displeased me in any way, he would be well-aware of that. I would have told him how and why, in precise details.”

_No doubt you would,_ Marya thought.

“Devan has been talking about his younger brothers quite often lately, to Bryen Farring my other squire. Devan and Bryen have gotten quite close, they are about the same age after all. But of course, it is very right and proper for Devan to miss his _real_ brothers, even if they are far away from him.” Stannis paused, turning his back on Marya to look out the window again. “Would that some men would learn to do the same, and appreciate their own flesh-and-blood more than they do other men. Men with no blood relation at all,” Stannis said, his voice so bitter it almost curdled Marya’s blood.

_He is talking about his own brother_ , Marya realized. His brother the king, his brother who had been fostered at the Eyrie with Lord Eddard Stark. Or was it Lord Renly he was referring to?

_It is not my place to comfort a bitter and despairing lord_ , Marya thought. And besides, she suspected that Stannis Baratheon would despise any attempt at comfort, especially coming from a relative stranger such as herself. Or coming from anyone, really. So she waited, and said nothing.

“I have heard Devan telling Bryen that you could see Storm’s End from this window,” Stannis said after a while.

Marya moved closer to the window, standing next to Stannis. “You can, during the day, or when the night is not as dark as this. But if you look closely my lord, you can still see the drum tower,” Marya said, pointing at the tower looking like a spiked fist thrusting into the sky.

Stannis nodded. “The drum tower can be seen from miles away at Shipbreaker Bay too,” he said, sounding wistful.

Marya did not know what to say to that, so she said nothing. They stood side-by-side in awkward silence. “What is it like, watching the first of your sons getting married?” Stannis asked abruptly. To Marya’s surprise, he was actually looking at her while he asked the question, his expression truly curious.

“My lord?”

“Marriage changes a lot, does it not? As a mother, you must have conflicted feelings about it. Not … purely unreserved joy.”

“I am happy for my son, my lord,” Marya replied.

“Only happiness? Really? No doubt, or any reservation at all?” Stannis sounded disbelieving.

Marya shook her head. “Only happiness, my lord. As well as praying for my son’s happiness. I’m sure your lady mother would have said the same thing, about your own wedding.”

_Too late._ She realized that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Lord Stannis’ mother and father, had died long before he was wed. And from the stories Marya had heard, his own wedding day was not a happy occasion, for various unfortunate reasons.

“Forgive me, my lord. I –“

Stannis paid no attention to Marya’s apology. He interrupted her as if she had not been speaking at all. “What advice did you give Dale, about marriage?” He asked her, sounding completely indifferent, but his eyes betrayed him. He seemed truly curious. Marya could not help but wonder why.

_Is he perhaps wondering what advice his mother would have given him, before his own wedding, had the good lady been alive?_ Marya dared not ask Lord Stannis that question, however.

“I told him that marriage is not only about the happy times. The good and the bad, happiness and unhappiness, joy and sorrow, they must face all of that together,” Marya said.

 “Ser Davos always seems so happy in his marriage. You do not feel the same way about your marriage?” Stannis asked, his tone heated, as if Marya had offended him in some way.

“I did not say that, my lord,” Marya replied.

“It is implied, in your words,” Stannis insisted.

“That is only how you chose to decipher my words,” Marya said. “No marriage is perfect or ideal, Davos knows that as well. And I would guess that you of all people know that more than anyone.”

Stannis bristled at that. “Why? What have you heard about my marriage?” He barked out the words loudly.

“Forgive me, my lord. I was not talking about your marriage. Only that you do not strike me as a man with illusions, about marriage or anything else.”

“Neither do you, my lady. I don’t think you have ever had _any_ illusion, about _anything_ at all.” It was meant as a compliment, Marya suspected, but the grudging way Stannis uttered the words through gritted teeth and clenched jaw made her feel as if she was being insulted. She held her tongue and said nothing.

Her silence seemed to fluster Stannis. He stared at her stiffly for a moment, then looked away hastily. “No need to mention this conversation to Davos. Unless he asks, of course. I would not ask you to lie to your husband,” he finally said, looking at the empty space beyond her.

Marya nodded. Stannis quickly walked away without saying anything else. Marya doubted she would ever feel about Lord Stannis the way her husband did, or even the way her sons did, but she had to admit that he did have his moments, Stannis Baratheon.

Davos must be waiting for her still. She quickened her steps. As she passed the bride and groom’s room, she heard the unmistakable sound of laughter from inside. Marya smiled. Maybe they will make a child tonight, Dale and Dina, the way she and Davos had made Dale on their wedding night.

 


End file.
